


Muffin Masochism

by Artemis_Dreamer



Series: The Squishy Apocalypse [8]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Drabble, Dubious Consent, Fat Robots, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Sadism, Weight Gain, belly stuffing, mature themes, seriously, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 16:53:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10222871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Dreamer/pseuds/Artemis_Dreamer
Summary: Starscream knew that a line would soon have to be drawn. Transformation was becoming increasingly difficult for the seeker as his weight increased. Unless it was the tyrant's intention to render him completely useless, their sessions of punishment must decrease, either in frequency or in magnitude.---In which Megatron has devised a new way to torture his SIC.





	

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This is a work of fetish fiction, involving belly stuffing, unhealthy eating, and weight gain.
> 
> Don't like, don't read.

Starscream clutched at his swollen chassis, his respiration coming in short gasps. His tanks were painfully, agonizingly, overwhelmingly full - and Megatron still wasn’t finished.

“Please, Lord Megatron. Have mercy.” Starscream whined, practically begging his master to stop. He knew that his frame couldn't endure much more of this harsh treatment.

The tyrant merely smirked and offered the seeker another muffin. Starscream clamped his jaw shut and turned his faceplates away in a clear refusal, but Megatron remained undeterred. Gripping Starscream’s helm in one massive servo, he used two of his clawed digits to roughly force open the seeker’s jaw.

Still smirking, Megatron forced the entirety of the oversized chocolate muffin into his Second's mouth.

“Your punishment is not yet over. The more you resist, the more severe it becomes.” The tyrant’s servo clamped the seeker’s mouth firmly shut, ensuring that his will would be obeyed.

Starscream's wings trembled with rage as he forced himself to chew and swallow the dense, heavy, and overwhelmingly rich treat. The taste was amazing, to be sure, but he’d already been forced to consume nearly a dozen. Any enjoyment that he may have felt when the flavour of that first muffin had exploded on his glossa was now long gone, replaced by abject misery and suffering.

Starscream's tanks spasmed with pain and he gasped, clawing at the servo that restricted his jaw as he struggled to vent. Megatron grudgingly removed his servo, allowing the seeker to pant freely. He would prefer that his Second remain online, if only to prolong the delight he took in such delicious torture.

“This punishment,” Starscream spat, anger eclipsing the last vestiges of common sense in his processor, “is cruel and unusual. There's a difference between military discipline and whatever sick game this is you’re playing - not that you'd know it!”

“Do you still believe this to be a game, Starscream?" Megatron inquired dangerously. “Clearly, you have yet to learn your lesson. Another dozen should suffice.”

“No, master! No more. Please!” The seeker was nearly shrieking as he pleaded for forgiveness. He couldn't fathom how his tanks hadn't already burst from strain. He couldn’t fathom how it was even possible to consume that much fuel. And he couldn’t fathom where Megatron had gotten the idea for this twisted form of punishment. 

It had all begun after a failed assassination attempt – a rather sloppy attempt, to be fair. Wiring the tyrant's berth to an electric cattle fence had been neither particularly subtle nor particularly clever.

In retaliation, Megatron had chained the seeker in the brig and left him to contemplate his failings in solitude for nearly an entire orn. When the tyrant returned, he had been bearing a large quantity of human foodstuffs and a pair of stasis cuffs.

The first time, it had been oatmeal cookies. The warlord had mercilessly stuffed Starscream with the strange fuel, forcing his tanks far past the point of fullness, before unceremoniously releasing him from the brig. The unfortunate mech had spent the entirety of the next three orns in recharge, curled around his chassis and whimpering in pain.

This was the tenth instance of such discipline. Or was it the eleventh? Starscream was loathe to admit that he’d lost count. Megatron now used this punishment to correct each and every one of the seeker’s transgressions, no matter how comparatively minor. (Though "minor" for Starscream typically meant such severe acts of treason as deleting mission-critical information or stockpiling stolen energon).

Starscream was also loathe to admit that he enjoyed it. The seeker had always had a masochistic bent, hence why he willingly returned to Megatron’s side time and time again – only the warlord's skilled servos could inflict the pain that he so desperately craved.

This new form of pain was truly intoxicating, though that may have been due in part to the addictive nature of human fuels. Either way, Starscream wanted more – more fuel, more punishment, and more pain. The seeker had recently gone so far as to deliberately allow himself to be caught committing his acts of treachery, thereby guaranteeing that he would be disciplined.

He wanted more.

Another muffin was forced into his mouth by those harsh servos, and Starscream defiantly twisted his helm free from the warlord’s grasp, even as he chewed with relative obedience.

The seeker had a worrying suspicion that Megatron was aware that he enjoyed this new form of punishment. Why else would it grow harsher each time, but only in intervals that, while agonizing, remained physically tolerable? Why else would his servos no longer be bound? And why the pit else would the punishment have been moved from the brig to the tyrant's berthroom?

Perverted old fragger.

Starscream forced himself to swallow, the muffin settling heavily in his overstuffed tanks. “My lord, I am scheduled for patrol tomorrow, and -" His tone was simpering, his wings lowered in deference.

“I am aware,” Megatron interjected impatiently. “I scheduled it. Your shift begins at dawn.”

Starscream’s ire broke through the veneer of his common sense yet again, his wings snapping to attention and positively quivering with anger. “And how exactly am I supposed to patrol when I’m too full to transform?” he screeched.

Megatron smirked, his servos squeezing roughly at the seeker’s bulging chassis. Starscream gasped at the sensation, his spinal struts arching, his frame unable to decide whether to press closer to the tyrant's touch or to flinch away from it. “You will find a way, or you will be punished again.”

“Fragger,” the seeker panted.

The warlord held out the last muffin, and Starscream knew what had to be done – he took it without protest or objection, forcing himself to devour every last torturous bite. The seeker made a show of licking the crumbs from his lipplates, keeping his optics half-shuttered in mocking deference. The punishment would only end when Megatron was satisfied with his behavior.

Certainly, the warlord knew that his seeker was taunting him, that this display of subservience was completely insincere. However, that failed to render the sight any less intoxicating. Megatron drew Starscream close and claimed his mouth in a kiss – a harsh, possessive kiss tasting of chocolate and spilt energon.

“Never forget exactly whom you serve.” The tyrant spoke the words in a contented purr, running the tips of his claws over the taut orb of the seeker's distended plating. 

A shudder of sheer terror wracked the winged mech's frame. "You, Lord Megatron.” Starscream gasped. “Only you.”

The tyrant nodded with smug satisfaction. Then, he abruptly and unceremoniously shoved the seeker off of the berth. Starscream had to stagger frantically to remain on his pedes, each movement sending waves of agony through his bloated chassis. “Dismissed.”

His wings held stiffly, his helm held high, Starscream left his master’s berthroom, all too aware of those crimson optics staring hungrily at his aft. He knew that his aft had become utterly enormous – and he also knew that Megatron liked it that way.

Perverted old fragger.

That was the problem with this form of punishment. Organic fuels, when consumed in excess, could cause a mech to gain weight. This forced feeding was the very definition of excess.

By this point, his chassis bulged outward even when his tanks weren't stuffed full. His formerly slim waist, narrow hips, and tapered thighs had also become embarrassingly thick. However, the majority of the newfound weight had settled itself on his aft. Thick, round, and positively jiggling while he moved, his aft looked quite nearly obscene.

As he strode down the corridor towards his own chambers, the seeker tried not to let the pain of his chassis affect the rhythm of his stride. He had a reputation among the crew for his noble bearing and aloof demeanor, and he would not allow that reputation to falter merely because Megatron took such a perverse delight in ruining his frame.

Speaking of ruining his frame, Starscream knew that a line would soon have to be drawn. Transformation was becoming increasingly difficult for the seeker as his weight increased, the slim and compact lines of his flight frame allowing little margin for change. Unless it was the tyrant's intention to render him completely useless, their sessions of punishment must decrease, either in frequency or in magnitude.

Then again, Starscream honestly wouldn’t put it past the warlord to desire such an outcome. It was possible that Megatron was intentionally rendering his Second's frame soft and weak and easily dominated, intentionally rendering his Second unable to transform or to defend himself.

Yes, that was likely Megatron's plan – though whether his motive was one of control or of personal pleasure was currently unknown to the seeker. Both were equally likely, and it may even have been some combination of the two.

Perverted old fragger.

Several vehicons passed Starscream in the hallway, all allowing their visored gazes to linger for a nanoklik or two longer than necessary on his aft. The seeker’s wings hitched with irritation, and he quickened his pace momentarily, until an abrupt and ill-timed spasm of pain sent him doubling over and clutching at his stomach.

Pit, his tanks were stuffed to the point of bursting. Today’s punishment had been nearly twice as severe as any that had come before it, the seeker consuming an entire dozen rich chocolate muffins that had settled heavily in the pit of his chassis. Megatron didn’t seem to comprehend – or to care - that his frame possessed any limitations at all.

Starscream slumped forwards against the corridor wall, his forehelm pressed against the cool metal as he panted in a desperate attempt to regain his composure. Composure that was lost in an instant when a pair of servos firmly grasped his aft and squeezed, blunt digits sinking deeply into his soft plating.

A screech of indignation escaped the seeker's vocalizer as he whirled around to confront the culprit… only to find that the hallway was now completely devoid of all vehicons. However, the sound of fleeing pedes still echoed loudly from around the far corner.

Slag it all to Pit, he was going to dismember 5T3V3.

Turning on his heel, Starscream set off in pursuit, only to receive an abrupt and agonizing reminder of his current predicament. Gasping in pain, the seeker grudgingly abandoned his pursuit of the errant Vehicon and instead continued to limp miserably towards his berthroom.

He was still going to dismember 5T3V3 – but only after spending the entirety of the next three orns in recharge, curled up around his chassis and whimpering in pain.

**Author's Note:**

> For the anonymous Key. I'm 90% sure this wasn't what you wanted.
> 
> So, this is probably the most messed-up Squish I've ever written. I have no excuse, except that Prime!Starscream is fun to torture.
> 
> If you don't mind a considerable wait time and unconventional results, I'm still taking requests. G1, Prime or Animated, any mech or pairing that you'd prefer. Next up, expect some squishy Dinobot love!
> 
> Any and all feedback is appreciated.


End file.
